


Scarlet's Night

by chaosfay



Series: Random Gifts Trades and One Shots [16]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canonical Character Death, Death, Denial, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Grief/Mourning, Love, Making Love, Open to Interpretation, Oral Sex, POV Male Character, Penis In Vagina Sex, Self-Denial, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4636614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosfay/pseuds/chaosfay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A night to remember for newly crowned King Alistair and Queen Scarlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarlet's Night

Alistair held Scarlet close.

No, King Alistair held Queen Scarlet close.

A year ago he could never imagine he’d be in such an elaborate in, in a castle, married, and a king. A year ago none of this would have been plausible. Not a dream or a passing thought. Now here he was, in a soft bed covered in thick blankets, his wife in his arms and smiling back at him with eyes bluer than Lake Calenhad.

“What are you staring at?” Her fair skin flushed red under his gaze.

“I’m smiling at the Queen of Fereldan.” He kissed her lips as he rolled over her, his weight on his forearms. He pulled away just far enough their noses touched. “She’s a beautiful, brilliant woman, and the bravest person I have ever met.”

Scarlet erupted with laughter as she covered her face with her hands. Alistair simply watched, a grin on his face. It took a few minutes for her to calm down, but when she did her eyes were bright, face filled with joy. “You are a silly man.”

“No, I’m a silly king. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of more; ruling a country or being your husband.” He knew the pillow would smack the side of his before he felt it. “Yup, definitely afraid of you more.”

“You know we’re not officially married yet. We have to consummate the marriage.”

“I knew I was forgetting something.” He was prepared for the pillow this time. “Let me make it up to you.”

She started laughing again. “Are you sure you haven’t forgotten how to go about that? It’s been three weeks.”

Alistair kissed her lips, teasing them, “I may need to take things slow to help myself remember. I’m sure it’ll come to me.” Three weeks of pent up sexual frustration, his hands providing only momentary relief. Three weeks of being physically separated from her after a year of war. As tempting as it was to simply take her right then Alistair paced himself.

Soft chaste kisses down her jaw, and already she was breathing heavier. Down her neck, open mouthed and light, he wanted nothing more than to leave marks, to nip and bite, make her beg. No, he would explore every inch of her body. All her scars, all her freckles, line and curve. His body protested the pace, but he ignored it. The scent of her perfume, of her, was intoxicating.

From her neck he moved downward, exploring the soft flesh of her breasts. Her sighs and moans followed soon after, a song of delight and desire. With care he kept his weight on one arm as the other moved light as warm wind over her arm. Her hand was in his hair, then down his neck to his shoulder. He heard her say his name as he took as much of her into his mouth as he could, his tongue flickering and twisting around her nipple. Her back arched as his hand met her own, fingers webbing together.

Alistair moved across to her other breast, releasing her hand as he slid his arms beneath her, moving his weight to his knees as he pulled her closer. His teeth grazed her skin as she spoke his name again, her hands twisted in the sheets beneath her now. Opening his eyes he watched her face as he kissed the soft skin of her breast. She was smiling, her eyes closed and skin flushed red. His held her close as he moved down over her ribs taking care not to tickle her. Open mouthed kissed, a sweep of his tongue, he tasted her. Inch after slow inch he moved lower, his hands sliding beneath her as he lowered her back to the bed.

Her hips moved beneath him, eliciting a moan and shudder as she pressed against his erection. No, he would keep it slow. Make this a night to remember more than any other.

Her moans grew louder as her breath quickened.

Over her ribs and down towards her stomach he followed the line down the center of it, tracing his tongue over the small scars. He could taste her sweat, feel her breathing, a smile on his face as he focused on her pleasure. His name again, spoken louder, as he moved he circled her navel with his tongue. He nibbled her skin, making her jump, before moving down the bed. Only a momentary pause, enough to make give her time to slow her heart.

He pulled her legs over his shoulders, his patience thinning as he tasted her. It wasn’t her moan he heard, but his own. There would be nothing slow with his mouth. A long draw up, his tongue pressed flat and firm against her, pausing over her clit before circling around it. Down again, up, tasting her arousal, intoxicated by the smell of her. Her fingers intertwined with his, holding firm as he worked her. Her hips moved in time with his tongue. Draw up, firm, hard, gentle suck, around and around then flick, back down. He could feel her all over his face as he lost feeling in his jaw.

Her legs tightened around his head, but he didn’t cease. He covered her with his mouth, deaf to Scarlet’s cries, her nails digging into the back of his hands. The pain didn’t even register.

As her legs relaxed Alistair gently removed them from his shoulders. She was shaking, covered in a layer of sweat, eyes closed. He wiped his chin and mouth with his forearm, a grin on his face. To think a year ago he had no idea what he was doing and now he could leave her trembling like this filled him with sinful pride.

“Are you well, Queen Scarlet?” He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.

She managed a nod, albeit a weak one.

“Perhaps I should let you rest?” Alistair dragged his hand over the slick skin of her leg, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in his wake.

Scarlett opened her eyes, glaring at him. “Don’t you fucking dare, King Alistair Therin.”

Grabbing her leg firmly, “as my queen demands.” Taking himself in hand he slid into her as slow as he had moved his lips over her body.

“Oh…” was all Scarlet managed as he pulled back, slid in further, back again. Gentle, slow, and cruel all at once. Her eyes fluttered shut as he rotated his hips up, finding that spot within her that left her breathless with pleasure.

Three weeks of his calloused hands. Now he had her, warm, soft, and wet. He quietly thanked the Maker for his years of practiced discipline. Were he a different man he would have long since abandoned the slow pace, would have altogether focused on his own release.

He leaned forward, his weight on one hand, the other holding her leg, and rolled his hips. A slow and steady rhythm Scarlett soon met. He could feel his own sweat dripping down his back, neck, face, over his arms and legs. The heat of her around him made it difficult to focus, gripping him within as he slid back. His hand gripped the sheet as he pulled her leg up, her foot resting on his shoulder. She followed with raising the other, sliding it over his sweat-slick skin and onto the other shoulder.

Alistair could feel his thighs burning, a familiar tension he missed. He shifted to both his hands on the bed, folding her nearly in half. Then he picked up the pace. Her body shook with every thrust, begging him for more.

He moved back and out, lowering her legs, and with ease rolled her onto her stomach. Scarlett took the hint and brought her knees under her, raising her hips. Her hair stuck to her face, her back, her neck. He gripped her hips as he thrust into her. Hard. Alistair closed his eyes, focusing entirely on her. Maker, she made it difficult. Her voice filled the room, begging him for more, harder, faster, more. He slid a hand down her back, pushing her down as he held her hips in place.

Close, too close. Not yet. Bring her another wave, at least one more.

Slowing down just enough to bring him to the edge, he moved his hand between her legs and circled her clit. She shook beneath him, begging for the fast, punishing pace again. He moved his fingers in slow firm circles, keeping his own climax at bay. Hearing her cry his name again was all he wanted at this moment.

Her breath quickened, words unable to form as she got closer. He didn’t need to see her face to know what she was smiling, eyes fluttering closed. Her voice keened, higher, louder, until no sound came at all. A moment of silence followed by his name. Had she been on top of him her head would be thrown back, voice not muffled by the pillows and sheets around her.

She clenched tight around him, as though pulling him in. Alistair wasn’t about to pass this up, and started pounding into her. Hard. The sound of skin against skin, his own grunts mixed with her gasping, a harmony only they would know.

He could feel his loins growing tight, the familiar tingling and tension radiating out down to his legs, his feet. His hands quickly gripped onto Scarlet’s hips, stilling her. There would be bruises, but he didn’t care. The familiar shock ran up his spine as his fingers dug into her. Bending over her, his entire body clenched as he spilled himself. All the air in his lungs left him with the deep growl he couldn’t hold back. His hips slammed into hers, control gone now as he held her close.

Alistair was shaking, soaked in sweat and sex, unable to move and wanting nothing more than to collapse over her at that moment. Slowly air came back to him as the sweat on his face dropped down onto her back. Words couldn’t form if he tried.

Wrapping an arm around her he pulled her down with him as he fell over to his side. She was as a ragdoll in his arm, the scent of spent desire and satisfied lust surrounding them. He kept her close, nudging her hair away with his nose to kiss her neck. She shuddered, so sensitive now to any touch.

Sleep tugged at them both.

“Is my queen fucked to her satisfaction?”

Scarlet broke into a fit of laughter. “I’d have told you if I wasn’t.” She pulled away, whimpering as he slipped out of her. With great effort she managed to get off the bed.

“Come back to bed, love.” Alistair could hardly keep his eyes open.

“You know I can’t.” Using the bed for support she moved along towards the privacy wall. “Go to sleep. I’ll return in a minute.”

Hardly willing to argue Alistair fell away into the Fade, a smile on his face. No doubt the servants and guards would be talking in the morning, but he didn’t care. Not now nor ever again.

“Alistair! Alistair, wake up!” He was brought about abruptly, gasping for breath. Wynne’s face was covered in blood, soot, and grime. “Leliana, he’s awake!”

The smell of blood, death, and smoke overwhelms him. “Where am I? What happened?”

Leliana kneels beside him, her hand on his chess forcing him to stay down. “The archdemon is dead. You were thrown back by the blast and lost consciousness.” She uncorks one of the bottles as Wynne raises his head off what he assumes is her lap. “Drink this.”

He downs it, trying not to gag from the bitter taste mixed with the smell of the battlefield. “Where’s Scarlet?”

A look passes between Leliana and Wynne. He can feel his stomach clench and twist.

“Where’s Scarlet? Where is she? Tell me!” The potion having done its work he sits up, wincing. “Where is she?” He grips Leliana’s shoulders, nearly shaking her.

The lines going down her face aren’t from sweat.

“No. No! She’s ALIVE! We did as Morrigan told us. Scarlet can’t be dead!” He shoves Leliana away as he rises to his feet. “Scarlet!”

He spots Zevran walking toward them, a limp woman in his arms. There’s blood all over his chest, his arms, and legs. That much blood can’t be his, not if he’s walking this well. Zevran holds the woman close to him, but she doesn’t stir.

Alistair rushes to them, his legs nearly giving out. He ignores Wynne and Leliana, deaf to everything but the sound of his heart pounding.

Zevran stops and waits for him, fresh tears running down his face. “I am sorry, my friend.” His voice cracks, breaks. “She is gone.”

“No, no she isn’t.” With great care he lifts Scarlet from Zevran’s arms. “Scarlet, wake up. Please, wake up.” He falters, falls to his knees, the sting of tears blinding his vision. “You can’t be dead. Morrigan said we would live. You can’t be dead.”

“Alistair.” Wynne touched his shoulder.

“No! She’s unconscious, not dead. She isn’t dead! Morrigan said we would live, we would survive.” His tears fell freely, running down his face, dripping onto Scarlet’s.

“Alistair, please.” Leliana kneeled before him now, cupping his face gently in her hands as she turned his face to look at her. “She’s gone. Scarlet is gone.”

“Stop saying that! She’s just unconscious! Wynne, use your magic! Give her a healing potion. She’ll come around.” No one moved. “Please?”

“She died in my arms, my friend.”

Alistair glared at Zevran.   “She didn’t die. She’s asleep. Just badly wounded. We need to heal her. That’s all. She didn’t die.” Looking down at Scarlet’s face. “She’s just sleeping. That’s all. Not dead. She can’t be. Not after all this. Just sleeping.”

Zevran pulled Alistair’s hand away from her, “look at your hand.”

Alistair didn’t move, “just sleeping. She’s just sleeping.”

“No, my friend, she is gone.”

“Give me a healing potion. I’ll prove she’s alive. She can’t be dead. Morrigan promised the archdemon wouldn’t kill us if we did as she instructed. We did. That means Scarlet is just unconscious.” He looked up, desperation in his voice. “Just give me a healing potion!”

Leliana couldn’t control her crying now. Handing him a potion, “I’m sorry, Alistair.”

“You’ll see. She’s alive.”

“It was not the archdemon that killed her.” Zevran came to his knees beside Leliana, holding the fellow rogue as he rocked her back and forth.

Alistair poured the healing potion slowly into Scarlet’s mouth. “Just unconscious. Sleeping. Morrigan promised.” He held her mouth shut, rubbing her throat, encouraging her to swallow. “Scarlet, wake up. Please, wake up. It’s over. The war is over. Wake up.” She wasn’t swallowing.

“It wasn’t the archdemon that killed her.” Zevran’s voice remained gentle, calm. Leliana couldn’t speak at all. “It was a sword. It cut through her armor. I wasn’t fast enough to protect her. I am sorry.” Leliana was shaking in his arms.

“No, she’s alive.”

“Alistair, she’s gone. Zevran killed the darkspawn that attacked her. She bled out.”

“Stop saying that! Just stop. Look, she’s swallowing the potion. See? Wynne, heal her. She needs you to heal her!”

“I can’t heal the dead. Alistair, she’s gone.”

“No, you will heal her.” He glared at the mage, eyes hard. “Do it!”

Instead, Wynne turned Scarlet’s head and the potion spilled from her mouth. “She’s gone.”

Alistair pulled Scarlet’s limp body closer, looking at his hand now. It was caked in drying blood. “No.” He looked at the place his hand had been resting and saw the wound. It was deep, ragged. “We got married.” The sword had gone up into one of her lungs, breaking her ribs along the way. “We’re king and queen now.”

“What was she wearing at the wedding?” Wynne’s voice was sharper now.

“I-I don’t…I don’t remember.” Realization started coming over him in waves of despair.

“Who was at the wedding?”  

“I don’t know.” He wished he could feel Scarlet’s skin.

“What kind of music did they play at the celebration?”

Despair began to overwhelm him, fill him. “Please, leave. All of you, just…just go.”

“Alistair.” Leliana managed as she pushed away from Zevran, her eyes red, faces streaked with grime and tears.

“Just go!” The world was suddenly very cold.

They didn’t argue with him, didn’t speak a word.

Around him were the bodies of men, women, soldiers, mages, elves, and warriors. The bodies of gunlocks, hurlocks, darkspawn emissaries, and shrieks littered the ground. He looked up and saw the body of the archdemon, dead and still.

“Anora will be a good queen.” He kissed Scarlet, her lips cold. “I’ll find Morrigan. I’ll find and end her.” His voice hardened as he placed his forehead against hers. “Then I will join you. We’ll be together. Just wait for me. Please.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, firm, hard.

“I said I want to be alone!”

“No, you don’t.”

It was Scarlet’s voice.

**Author's Note:**

> I left the ending open for interpretation.


End file.
